Ashes to Ashes
by Miztsi
Summary: AU Historical Fantasy. Lightly inspired by the European witch hunts. Mathias couldn't believe what he was seeing. Lukas was a witch. For some reason he wasn't afraid. It only made him more determined to protect his friend. Thus begins an unexpected journey that will shatter the comfortable world he once knew. Pairings: DenNor, SuFin (A/N:first chapter revised & should read better)
1. Chapter 1 Part 1

**Ashes to Ashes: Chapter 1, part 1**

**Note: I have gone back and edited this chapter and removed Norway's section from part a and b of chapter 1. You won't miss anything if you've read the story before, as it was shortened, rather than lengthened. **

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Hetalia fandom

**Warning: **contains violence, character death, loads of angst and potentially touchy subjects (religion, military, ect).

**Characters without canon names:**

_Lukas Bondevik: Norway_

_Mathias Køhler: Denmark_

_Emil Steilsson: Iceland_

_Tim Mogens: Netherlands. _

**I apologize ****if anyone is offended by Netherlands' characterization. Although I don't agree with the way he is portrayed in the anime, I decided to roll with it, since seems he and Prussia would make the ultimate pair of bullies. **

**Germania (haven't thought of a name for him yet b/c he won't be appearing for a while but do give me suggestions) will also be Gilbert and Ludwig's ****father. I'm not sure how accurate it is, but I'm also rolling with it since it works with the story.**

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In the outskirts of town, there was a peculiar burst of activity. A small crowd gathered to witness, what an unsuspecting visitor would assume, to be a spectacular event. Among the people, stood a young soldier.

'_Disgusting_' Tino Väinämöinen thought to himself.

He had been in the military for just over a month, and already his mind was plagued by second thoughts on such decision.

Tino wondered how he had gotten himself in such a predicament. Life as a soldier serving in the Imperial Army, was far different than how he initially envisioned. He had imagined something far more pleasant, a job where he would help the locals of the town and the people he assisted would adore him and greet him everyday with a smiles on their faces.

Instead, the military seemed more interested in some rather less agreeable activities.

Thus Tino had later figured, was the fault of the ceasefire a few decades back. As most of the documents had described, for the first time since centuries past, every neighboring country was at peace. With nothing reasonable to invade and no borders to defend, the military had stooped to invent other creative methods in order to secure their lavish funding. These methods mostly involved picking off certain citizens that were "suspicious or unfit for society". However, rather than acting with the intention of being good Samaritans, most soldiers seemed more intent on being bullies. The military had some apparent need for power and gave the impression of enjoyment over the fear and dominance they held over the lives of ordinary civilians.

This is where Tino found himself, standing in front of a witch trial execution.

He was somewhat aware of the situation, after being briefed on the details about the person in question. The commanding officer had given him these details before he got assigned the task of guarding the site of the execution. It was an elderly widow this time, and she had apparently raised suspicion by simply having a habit of taking in stray cats to substitute her empty household. Of course the villagers had taken the whole cat issue as a hanging crime and she was automatically arrested with the apparent odd behavior. The alleged witch was not given a chance to defend herself and to tell her side of the story, just as with every trial and execution. He diverted his eyes. When the inevitable came and executioner set the pyre, he would rather not witness the excruciating pain of the victim as she painfully burned to her death. The sight was one far too atrocious for him to imagine.

As much as he would have wished to save the victim, who was probably innocent of any witchcraft, he knew it was useless to argue against the military. Tino wasn't a fool and he aware of the fact that he not have the manpower to make any difference and would most likely be throwing any effort in vain. He was taught to conform to the every will and command of his superiors. Questioning any of the officials may lead to dire consequences, as he had been warned. Tino would rather not risk the potential punishments, such as a painful whipping, having his shower privileges withheld for an indefinite amount of time, or even a dishonorable expulsion from the military itself. Whatever the case and situation may be, he would always be on the losing side.

Tino tried desperately to avoid these executions - and he had successfully gotten away with not attending the first few in his military career. Unfortunately this time around, he had no choice but to be on guard duty, as most of his other fellow comrades, who usually wouldn't mind the task, had decided to take the rest of the week off for leisure time instead. Tino, who had yet to take his turn, was automatically selected without argument.

He detested himself for being roped into this horrible act, but it wasn't as if there was much choice. After all, the military was the very key that opened the door to a bright future. Dare he say it, but it was his lifeline. It was due to this exasperating career, he was able to obtain shelter and proper nourishment each night. It had been the only reason lived a fairly comfortable life, rather than freezing outside in the Winter snow. Even though Tino was reluctant to admit, the military offered his only shred of hope for a decent living. The pay he received at the end of every week served as a wonderful bonus and allowed him to accumulate a small amount of savings, which he would use in the distant future and return back to his old home in Suomi. There it would be far more comfortable and free of these unjust prosecutions. Afterwards, he would expend the rest of his money for a decent education, and work towards a future profession devoid of violence and cruelty.

It was a joyous thought to the very least. A few years of this torment and he might just be able to escape and find himself in a much better predicament.

He scanned the crowd in front of him. They were the local townsfolk, who had gathered around to gawk, laugh and sneer at the alleged witch, as if it were a comedic street show. There were a good fifteen to twenty people in the gathering, a healthy mix of men and women, varying from early twenties to elderly. Their faces lit with delight and their eyes gleamed with bloodthirst as they mocked the woman on the stake.

Tino wondered who in their right mind would enjoy this gruesome plight of human suffering. '_Sick bastards,_' he thought. These were the people responsible for the majority of the witch hysteria. They were the type to frame their business rival or the person they liked the least in order to initiate their trial and eventual fiery death for the purpose of their own enjoyment.

A short while later, the execution commenced with a speech from the announcer. It was mostly exaggerated to excite the crowd. He told them some ridiculous story of how the alleged witch had been hoarding cats - or as the announcer had described them, "satan's little servants," to do some irrational actions, such as subjecting the entire town under mind control. A wave of liveliness filled the air with synchronized gasps and laughter of the crowd as they bought into the story.

The pyre was lit and the air filled with the scent of smoke. Tino cringed and averted his head away from the scene. He thought pleasant thoughts, in an attempt to drown out the screams of agony from the alleged witch. He reminded himself of the enjoyable things he received for being in the military: the meals usually included meat during supper time, which was better than what the average person had. There was also the occasional free vodka, the warm baths, a comfortable bed every night, his paycheck.

That was about all he could come up with. Tino was disappointed he could count them all on one hand, as opposed to the many other things he disliked.

Meanwhile, the smell of wood burning had mixed with a new scent. It was indescribably dreadful, and bore a familiar reminiscence to death. Tino figured whatever clothing and human flesh smelled like after exposure to an open flame, this was likely it. His stomach turned in disgust and he swallowed, in an attempt to prevent the contents of his last meal from creeping up his throat.

Unfortunately, his plight caught the attention of another soldier.

"Ha! Would you look at that?" the soldier sneered towards him.

Tino scowled at his tormentor. Tim Mogens - a Nederlandse man with a knack for causing trouble, engaging in illicit activity, and overindulging in the local brothels.

"It looks like the little one can't handle a little heat." Tim laughed poking the soldier next to him in the arm.

Tino saw the other soldier turn towards him. Gilbert Beilschmidt, with his white hair and red eyes, had the pigments for albinism. Much alike his friend, Gilbert was just as notorious in terms of mannerism and ruthless behavior. Despite having unusual looks that were sure to raise suspicion and hatred, Gilbert was able to blend in perfectly with the rest of the ignorant army, whom were quick to persecute anyone that didn't fit into the norm.

"What's wrong little puffball?" Gilbert mocked. "Scared of the big, bad fire?"

Tino knew exactly what the soldier had been referring to - his short frame and cherubic face. He ignored the insult, not wanting to bother with such ill-mannered people. He could care less to impress them and Tino knew quite well the reason he was let into the military, despite having somewhat of a gentle, squeamish nature.

He had excellent sharpshooter abilities and was skilled with bow and arrow. Many were surprised at his unexpected talent, as his baby face indicated a tranquil life, away from the hazards of fighting. First appearances however, were quite deceiving, and Tino was the best shot in the entire town. Although he may lack in other areas, the moment he demonstrated his aptitude with various ranged weapons, Tino was given automatic entry into the military.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tino noticed Tim closing his eyes and scrunching up his face, in mockery of his terrified look. A couple seconds later, the two of them ruptured into laughter.

Tino let out a sigh before replacing his grimace with a fake smile. He wasn't going to give them anything to tease about. He hoped he pulled a convincing face. Already, he could feel sweat droplets forming on the left side of his face, as he struggled to maintain the facade.

"Now that's the spirit, little one!" Tim gave him a rough pat on the shoulder. "Now sit back and enjoy the show."

"I don't believe there's anything particularly enjoyable about this," Tino fidgeted, trying to hide his nervousness. He may not like the teasing but he wasn't going to pretend he enjoyed the atrocious act. "Burning at the stake is a slow, painful way to die."

Tino had never seen the process himself, since he avoided guard duty during executions whenever it was possible. Even during this time, when he wasn't able to dodge the shift, Tino had his head turned the entire time, avoiding the pain and torment of the witch in question. He had heard enough stories about the process to make up for it.

The freshly lit fire itself felt like a sweltering infernal. The wood burns and creates an choking smoke, making it hard to breath. Then when clothing catches aflame, the torment begins. Victims are helpless as their skin slowly melts away. From personal experience, Tino knew that holding one's hand over a fire for a second too long results in a painful blister, but burning at the stake is the same sensation amplified over one's entire body. The agony persists for an indefinite amount of time, until consciousness sluggishly fades away due to the excruciating pain.

"But that's what makes it more exciting, huh?" Tim spoke, tilting his head in an affirmative nod.

"I'd say otherwise" Tino protested. "It's a gruesome sight and certainly nothing to joke about, especially when it's someone's painful end being put on display for viewing purposes." He defended. Of course Tim and Gilbert were the type to find such gruesome acts entertaining. He wasn't going to lose his humanity, like the rest of the other soldiers did. He reminded himself that he wasn't going to spend his career here. He reminded himself that in a few years time, he would and away from this town and his tormentors.

"Well isn't that cute, puffball." Gilbert's large smirk stretched across his face. "Trying to be all sensitive and caring?" He stretched out his hand and poked Tino on the cheek. "Well tell ya what. You're going to have to toughen up that little face of yours if you want to survive here."

Tino was tempted to move his face towards the left, where Gilbert's finger would be pointed at his mouth instead, allowing him to give it a hard bite. In the end, he decided against it.

"Must I remind you, _Private_ Väinämöinen," Tim apprehended, reminding him of their rank difference. Tino, with his short career of one month, was only a Private. It was the beginner's rank, to which he often found himself the subject of much teasing from hooligans such as Tim and Gilbert. Unlike Tino, Tim and Gilbert had each been in the military for around four years. During that time, both managed to receive promotions. Tim had managed to raise his rank up a notch and was considered a Corporal. Gilbert, more than likely due to the connection of his high-ranking father and younger brother, had recently been promoted to Sergeant. The two of them utilized any opportunity possible to shamelessly boast about the fact. "As you can see, we are the bigger fellows here, and wouldn't you say it's time to wise up and learn from your superiors?"

"I'd rather not be a bloodthirsty lunatic, thank you very much," Tino forced the smile back on his face. He had developed such habit, especially in situations where he found himself uncomfortable.

Gilbert took offense to the comment as his right eye gave a twitch, "Oi, we're not lunatics," he spat, "We're the one's who do all the work around here. It's thanks to diligent soldiers, such as Tim and I, that this town and all its inhabitants are even alive. It's our hard work that keeps everyone here safe, rather than murdered from these witchcraft human sacrifice rituals."

"That's right," Tim added, in defense of his friend. "We're the ones that follow orders, while you prance around being completely unhelpful and grumbling about the job. Who's not to say you're not secretly assisting the witches. Maybe the next person on the stake ought to be you."

Tino gripped the cross bow in his hand. It was loaded up with a round of bolts and ready to fire at his target in case the crowd acted up, or if the alleged witch attempted an escape. If he wasn't careful, there was a good possibility the bow could go off and send a stray bolt. Maintaining his smile, Tino wondered what would happen if his fingers were to "accidentally" slip and hit either Tim or Gilbert.

That scenario was only a fantasy in his mind. Had he had the courage to pull it off, there would be much anger and uproar among his entire squadron. He was unpopular enough already among his fellow soldiers, both for being a new comer but also for holding a different opinion about the witch hunts. Even if he wasn't overly vocal, he displayed it enough through his actions and everyone knew of his negative views about the process being inhumane and unjust. Thus left him with a high chance of what Tim had suggested and he would likely be next one on the stake.

It also wasn't the proper circumstances. The only time Tino ever found himself initiating a fight was after a good couple shots of vodka. It was only after the buzz effect of the alcohol had subdued any logical thinking in his head that he would be tempted to act out in irrational violence. Tino was not drunk so he continued his false, cheerful appearance and attacked with words, "It's called being a decent human being. Maybe you should try it sometime."

"Why you little," From the tone of his voice, Tim was irate. Subsequently, he grabbed a fistful of Tino's shirt and dragged him forward. "You think you can rattle me with your snobby little attitude? I'll show you how much of a '_decent_' human being I can be!" he spat with mockery. With Tim's sheer strength and his own small stature, Tino felt his body being wrenched back and forth, through the air, as Tim shook him by his chest. He could hear the sounds of Gilbert laughing, amused at the sight.

The commotion had captured the attention of the crowd, wherein roughly half averted their eyes from the scene of the pyre, to ogle at the brawl that had broken out among two of the guards. Within the next moments, the other soldiers had caught onto the plight, their faces bewildered with uncertainty and unable to decide between breaking the squabble, or allowing it to commence.

Admits the soldiers stood Lieutenant Braginski, whose violet eyes sparkled in in the same manner, as if he'd suddenly witnessed the apparition of a long lost companion. "My, my. What do we have here, Corporal Mogens and Private Väinämöinen?" he spoke in a tone so playful, it felt eerie.

Lieutenant Ivan Braginski, the top ranking officer in the squadron, was the man in charge of all military affairs for the town. Much like the rest of his subjects, he was ruthless in his conduct and power hungry. Although he had the privilege to be absent, he had chosen to appear at the scene of the execution. According to the gossip'of his fellow soldiers, Ivan _never_ missed them. For some unfathomable reason, he was always present, despite the fact that those reasons didn't seem to orient towards his dedication to his career. Instead, Ivan almost gave the impression that the true motivation behind his unfailing attendance were hidden psychopathic urges that could only be satisfied through the sights and sounds of human suffering.

With a wave of his hand, said man ushered to the group of soldiers, whom had taken a mild interest in the squabble, to return to their posts. Just as briskly they had gathered, the soldiers dissipated back into their positions. Gilbert followed suit, disassociating himself from the conflict.

Tino squeaked as he landed on the ground, flat on his back. Upon hearing the voice of his superior, Tim had released his grasp on Tino's shirt in manner so rapid, it had caused Tino to lose his balance.

"My apologies sir," Tim gave the man a salute before explaining himself. "But Private Väinämöinen here had disrupted the peace. I had no choice but to restrain him."

"What? That's not true!" Tino corrected himself before going too far. For a second, Tim's fabricated story had caused him to forget his formalities. "I mean, that is not true Sir! I had been minding my own business before Corporal Mogens started getting physical. I swear I have not touched him or disrupted anything, Sir!"

For a few seconds, Ivan's gaze shifted between Tim and Tino, before he spoke again. "Two completely different stories, _da_? I wonder who I should believe."

"I speak the truth Sir." Tim proceeded to defend his argument. "Private Väinämöinen has done nothing in regards to our witch irradiation mission here. He started causing a disturbance, so I performed my rightful duty by restraining him, Sir."

"No Sir," Tino pulled himself off the ground, dusting the dirt off his clothes before beginning his side of the story. "I did no such thing, Sir. Corporal Mogens had began taunting. I only defended back with language. Then Corporal Mogens started using physical force, Sir."

"This sure is interesting," Ivan's eyes held a strange glint. Tino felt a wave of uneasiness run down his spine. "I do not know who was the one that started the quarrel, but what I can tell that is the fact that Corporal Mogens did use physical force against Private Väinämöinen, _da_?"

"That may be be true Sir," Tim tried explaining, at a loss of words "But this was to keep Private Väinämöinen in line, Sir. He was completely out of hand."

"But you admit using violence against him, _da_?"

"Yes Sir, but it was out of necessity, Sir!" Tim gasped in surprise, seemingly disgusted that his superior would defend a simple new-comer over him.

"_Da_, I get that." Ivan responded and turned to Tino. "He had been physical with you. Did you fight back, Private Väinämöinen?"

"No Sir, I did not." replied Tino, equally as surprised upon the fact that Ivan may just be taking his side over Tim's. Perhaps his rotten luck today finally changed for the better.

"Well that's settled then." A strange grin appeared on the Lieutenant's face. "No supper for you tonight Corporal Mogens." Ivan adjusted his position to address them both at once. "I do not wish to see anymore arguing for the duration of your watch. This applies both physically and verbally - or your punishment will be much more severe. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Sir!" Tino's response was immediate. All he wanted was for guard duty to wished to return back to his residence, where it was peaceful and free of conflict. This had been enough trouble for one entire day.

Tim scowled before reluctantly giving the same response. Right as Tino assumed that everything was set and done, Gilbert had made his way back to meddle in. "If I may interrupt." he addressed to Ivan, without any notion of properly addressing his superior. "I witnessed the entire fight and Tino here definitely had been causing trouble. Tim did the correct thing by restraining him."

With his unexpected support, Tim found the courage to argue once more. "As you can see, Sir. I have been honest the entire time. It's Private Väinämöinen who has been deceiving you."

Tino bit his lip, knowing this would be major trouble on his behalf. "I did no such thing Sir." He defended. "Gilbert had also been there trying to pick a fight! That's the only reason why he knows! It's also why the two of them have sided together!" He wanted to say more but stopped himself. It was completely useless and would only make himself look worse. Gilbert stepping in and supporting Tim and his forged story would throw things out of proportion and against his favor. Tino knew that even though he had been the only one telling the truth, nothing he said would matter.

This time, the one with the amused grin was Tim. "Yes Sir. As you can see, we were the ones doing our job. All the while, Private Väinämöinen only causes problems."

"That's right, Sir," Gilbert added. "I saw the whole thing."

Ivan turned his gaze towards Tino again. This time, it had lost its gleam and instead, resembled more of a dangerous glare. "Well it seems like Corporal Mogens and Sargent Beilschmidt say otherwise. And as you can see, it is now two against one. I do not appreciate being lied to Private Väinämöinen. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

"No Sir." Tino squeaked. He would've protested again, but the stern look on Lieutenant Braginski's visage was enough to keep him silent. Gilbert and Tim were firm and spotless with their fabricated story. Tino was aware that he had lost the dispute, simply because of Gilbert's presence.

Although Gilbert himself wasn't overtly impressive, his father was head General and overseer of the entire military. High ranked officials, such as Lieutenant Braginski, were infamous for behaving obsequiously, in order to maintain and gain status. Gilbert held a long listing of the people he preferred and detested and thus eagerly shared it with his father. Through Gilbert's threats and bragging alone, every soldier in the squadron was well aware. Over that fact alone, Ivan often coincided with Gilbert's judgement. Despite the difference in their status, it was Gilbert who had Ivan somewhat wrapped around his finger. Despite it being rather pathetic, Tino had learnt better than to fight against a system in which he could never win.

"I am very disappointed in you, Private Väinämöinen. I expected better from you, _da_?" Ivan's voice was filled with false remorse. Tino doubted the man truly cared about the well being and progress of his subjects. "Consider this your first strike Private Väinämöinen. Also in addition to missing tonight's meal, you are assigned mess duty for the next month. You understand?"

"Yes Sir." Tino gave a quiet response. The punishment was a burden, but he figured it could have been much worse. He'd only been given a strike and from what Tino was informed when he first joined, he could accumulate three strikes before he was officially expelled from the military. That was alright with him, as he hadn't planned on staying for long anyway.

On the other hand, no one in their rational mind enjoyed mess duty. Better known as "cleaning the kitchen," Tino had been unfortunate enough to be assigned the task once, and he knew from there on out that it should be avoided at all costs. At the end of the night, the entire dining room was a mess. The soldiers in his squadron were the messiest eaters Tino had ever seen. At least a few dozen chairs, and the occasional table were knocked down. Food stuck on the floor, walls, ceiling and other unimaginable places. The stains were tough and nearly impossible to scrub clean. Tying up the dining room alone generally took hours of precious time. In addition, right after the hall was cleared and prepared for the next day, there would be piles of dishes waiting to be washed.

As Ivan turned away, Tino saw Tim and Gilbert laughing, whist raising their hands and giving each other a quick pat of accomplishment. Sucking in a breath of air he forced a smile on his face yet again. Tino sure could not wait for this night to be finished.

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**A/N: Hello and thanks for reading. This is my first attempt at fanfiction in a long time and I have no idea how good or dreadful my writing actually is. Please let me know what you liked and didn't like.**

**Here's a couple of notes in case you are deciding if this story is worth your time or not. Although this setting is based on European witch hunts, it will not be historically accurate. I am writing (or at least trying to write) a historical fantasy.**

**See you next time!**


	2. Chapter 1 Part 2

**Ashes to Ashes Chapter 1 Part 2**

**Beta'd by TheOtaku2 - thank you for your excellent work!**

**********Note: I have gone back and edited this chapter and removed Norway's section from part a and b of chapter 1. You won't miss anything if you've read the story before, as it was shortened, rather than lengthened.**

"Thank you for your continued patronage and have a wonderful day," Mathias Kohler waved with a smile after assisting his final customer. As with the rest of the townsfolk, he began the conclusion of his daily activity. Over the horizon, the setting sun indicated as time to wrap up all commerce and return home.

Sales had been excellent today. As Mathias counted the money in his envelope, a grin stretched across his face. He had made fifty-two kronas. It was enough to purchase food for an entire week.

He loaded his merchandise back into the wagon, carefully lifting the heavier items such as tables and bed frames and planting them at the bottom. Towards the top, he stationed the lighter objects, such as the wooden figurines, and jewelry boxes. After all, his vendor sold a variety of hand crafted items ranging from furniture to children's toys.

It was mostly whatever his cousin Berwald could carve. They had began their business approximately two years ago. Berwald would work from home and utilize his woodcraft skills to construct a variety of products. It was his specialty and his craftsmanship managed hold a concurring simple and stylish design.

Despite laboring in the same vicinity, Mathias had yet to become aware of his cousin's technique. Everything Berwald created was precise - completely perpendicular with a smooth finish. His cousin at times, often resembled a robot, as he employed his expertise. It was almost as if Berwald was unable to assemble any merchandise that wasn't absolutely flawless. Finally beginning to receive the recognition it deserved, Berwald's artistry was among the preeminent in town. Although their business had a slow start, they were finally beginning to see their net profit shift to the positive side.

While Berwald crafted the products, Mathias would traverse to town and merchant the goods. Each day, he followed a routine. In the morning, Mathias would leave at sunrise with his wagon filled with merchandise. He would make the two kilometer journey up towards the town center and towards the sidewalk of a popular pathway in the center of town. There he would set up his street vendor. There he would operate until noontime, when he would pack up shop and visit the local tavern for lunch and the occasional beer. After a good hour break, he would then commence his business until closing time.

He had gotten so familiar with the schedule, he could track the day as it progressed. Mornings were generally dull, which allowed him some extra time to prepare his stand. Afternoons on the other hand, were usually busier. During that period, there would be around five or six customers at any given hour.

Mathias considered himself a great salesman. Ever since he was young, it was apparent that he held great charm, charisma, and the ability to draw attention to himself. Once he caught a person's attention, he would then utilize his persuasion skills to convince that his products were of superior quality and in style. His techniques were usually successful and around half his customers walked out after making a purchase. From what he witnessed, it was a far higher rate than most of his rivals.

In spite of all his achievements, he had yet to own a formal shop. A heated building would be pleasant, especially during the upcoming months. The outside tended to become bitter, as the combined effects of the wind and snow turned the atmosphere frigid. Mathias rather envied those who had the privilege.

Unfortunately the business wasn't flourishing enough just yet. Soon it would be there, as savings were adding up. His dreams of owning his own store could be a good possibility in the future. 'Great work!' He gave himself a brisk word of encouragement, feeling the weight of his earnings in his pocket. 'If the profit rates keep up, the store will be ours in no time!"

On rare occasions, Mathias found the chill affecting his morale. For the most part, however, he managed to ease around the inconvenience. There was no choice, in all honesty. After all, his salesman skills were the sole source of income, which he and Berwald depended, was what brought food to the table.

After securing his merchandise, Mathias turned to the other side of his wagon. There he greeted his horse, giving its mane a soft stroke. With his other hand, he unchained the horse from the post and fastened it to the wagon, before fastening a saddle to its back. Although it showed signs of old age, the horse made travelling between home and work much easier and was quite useful to keep around.

Mathias continued his stroll for a few blocks. He had one final stop before heading home.

At the market, Mathias found some fresh herring. Although he tended to have disagreements with Berwald on food, the one thing they both enjoyed was fish, which ended up as the main course on most days, when funds were sufficient. There was also sale on potatoes, so he picked up a bag full as well. They tasted fantastic, roasted along with fish.

As he paid the shopkeeper six kronas for the goods, Mathias couldn't help but let his eyes wander on a bottle of beer. It had been a while since he had something nice. The beer would only cost him about another six kronas, which would have been the equivalent of an entire day's worth of food. His profits were higher than usual today and it wouldn't hurt to splurge a little. He had the money to afford the indulgence.

This was too good to reject. Surely after a few drinks, even Berwald would have no complaints on the expenditure.

Mathias placed his groceries into the carriage and settled himself into the saddle. After positioning his feet into the stirrups, he adjusted the reins and gave the horse a gentle nudge. His horse immediately obeyed and began a gentle trot down the street. As he passed by the local townsfolk, Mathias greeted them with a smile and wave. A few of the locals responded and saluted back in response, but the gesture was mostly ignored and unappreciated. '_Tch, ignorant people',_ He mused as the gentle rhythm of the horse's movements accelerated, '_no one appreciates friendship anymore.'_

He lived a small distance from town and the commute usually took a good twenty minutes. The town least had a delightful scenery. The area surrounding the main center was quite a sight, with its evergreen trees and numerous rounded slopes. It was a pleasant place for a person to relax and unwind. Despite that, Mathias found the trip rather lonely. _'I'd much rather have some human company._' he pondered absentmindedly.

The sound of screams and cheering rippled in the distance. As Mathias was jolted out of his thoughts, he noticed a rather repugnant smell. From the far stretches of his vision, he could see a dark puffs of smoke, rising as they merged with clear surroundings, polluting the atmosphere with a revolting shroud of smog. With one hand, he released his grip on the reins to pinch his nose shut, in an attempt to block out the horrid odor. He twisted his face in disgust. Mathias knew exactly what the sounds, sights, and smells were.

It was an execution. Somewhere, separated by a couple miles worth of space, an accused witch was on the stake, slowly burning to her gruesome end.

He was familiar with the scenario. The witch executions always took place in the evening. They were often the spectacle of the village. People from all over would visit on their way home from work or the market to gawk at the poor soul on the pyre. Mathias never understood the entertainment factor behind an execution. It boggled his mind how some people could enjoy it. He had gone to one in the past out of sheer curiosity. The sight was an atrocious plight of torture and agony. It left him with a nauseating feeling and witnessing it once was enough for him to avoid any future events in the same manner as if they were the bubonic plague.

To Mathias' dismay, the witch burnings have become completely periodic. It rather reflected the relentless and barbarous nature the town had evolved into.

It was three years back, if his recollection was correct. The news of the town spread abruptly over the pretense that the church had caught a young woman performing black magic right in her own backyard. She was promptly tried and executed. At that time, he had felt relieved that perhaps there was one less dangerous witch in the world. Four months later, another person had been accused of witchcraft - a married housewife this time. She too had been tried and executed under the law. From there on out, a multitude of witches were caught and sent to their fiery graves. Whilst the purges increased at an ever frequent rate, the town leaders assured that it was for the good of the citizens. It was supposed to protect them from evil and the perils of black magic. As time went on, Mathias began to doubt the validity of the claim.

Now to the point where they had become weekly spectacle, it was as if everyone in town had accepted them as a routine aspect of their lives. Mathias found that fact rather disturbing.

The witch hunts had been a combined effort by the military and the church. The clergy of the town had always emphasized the statement that vile beings were on the loose, hiding among the innocents and plotting heinous deeds. The military had a nasty habit of meddling in people's private affairs and using brute force to achieve whatever they desired. For that, Mathias disliked them equally as much. When the two sides joined forces, the predicament of the town only deteriorated until it turned into the chaotic state it was now.

The day the witch trials began, was the day the atmosphere of the town changed. Despite the occasional passing wave on the street, people grew paranoid of one another. No one stayed out after the skies darkened, in fear of their own safety and raising suspicion upon themselves. All the pleasures and enjoyment of daily life was sucked dry and replaced with blanket of gloom and misery. Mathias remembered the simpler times, where neighbors were friends and trust was easy to find. Instead the mentality of the town had turned into one cold-hearted and estranged, as backstabbing and mistrust became the norm.

Thankfully, during the time he had spent reminiscing, Mathias had reached home. Briskly, he hopped off his horse, unlocked the front gate and lead his wagon inside. After directing the horse to its rest area and tethering it to the post, he hauled the wagon full of merchandise towards the shed. This time, he remembered to grab the groceries from the back of the wagon before securing the shed for the night.

Mathias gave a loud sigh, as his duty was completed for the day. Approaching the door of his cabin he gave it a hard knock. A few seconds later, the tall figure of his cousin appeared.

"Good evening, Waldy." he greeted as he let himself inside their home, ignoring the scowl directed his way. Mathias was well aware of the fact his cousin detested that nickname. However, he wasn't bound to let it falter his habit. "How's everything going around here?"

"Good Ev'ning," came the grunted response. "Good s' far. Mostly just got m're wood for craft'ng." The evidence of his cousin's activities were indicated by the pile of fresh logs next to the workbench.

Berwald had a particular way of speaking, with his usage of shortened sentences and the occasional dropping of vowels. It tended to be unintelligible to anyone who wasn't familiar with his voice.

Growing up with Berwald, Mathias was familiar with the story behind his cousin's unique speech. At the age of five, Berwald had came down with a serious case of scarlet fever. THe consequences left him bed-ridden for over two months, as his body became far too weak to handle the stress of standing for a prolonged periods and the stress from everyday duties. During that period, his skin swelled and turned bright red, as it became covered with small, circular spots. Every night, he ran a high fever and his throat swelled to the point where he could not ingest solid food. His entire family had given up hope, assuming the disease had become lethal and eventually suspected it to take Berwald's life. Miraculously however, he not only survived but also made a substantial recovery.

After the illness receded, his skin returned back to its normal, pale, peachy pigment. As his health got recovered, he was able to gain full stamina and return to the life of an average child. Despite the victories, the one thing Berwald could not restore was his voice. It seemed that the disease had caused permanent damage upon his vocal chords. Although Berwald wasn't the talkative type, in the few times he did speak, his dialogue was somewhat bizarre and hard to comprehend.

Mathias removed his shoes, and hung his coat up on the rack, before pulling a chair from the dining table and settling down. Since it was Berwald's turn to make dinner, he had some extra time to utilize for leisure.

"Guess what Waldy? You're gonna love this. Subtracting out the cost of food, we made a grand total of forty kronas!" he beamed setting the groceries and their daily earnings on the table. "I even got us something extra to celebrate!"

Berwald nodded as he took the money, placing it into the savings jar. Now nearly packed to the top, it was filling up well.

"Hey, how much do you reckon we have now?" Mathias asked, trying to form a rough estimate in his head.

"W'th today's earnings, 'bout twelve tho'sand kronas." responded Berwald, as he secured the jar back into the safe.

"That's fantastic! We're in luck then!" Their saving were adding up better than he expected. "We might finally be having that big move!" Mathias reminded himself to start looking for any lofts in town. Perhaps his goal of owning an actual store would come faster than he envisioned.

He thought of the various types of shops he'd seen. There were many that would function well, but a two storied residence building would be perfect and would be ideal. It could serve a dual purpose as a store and house, with the bottom floor as the shop and the top as the much needed new living space for Berwald and himself.

As his current home had been crudely built, it was starting to show the signs of decay and laceration, due to it's decrepit age. The walls were filled with weak spots, which had began to crumble in and the roof occasionally leaked at the first signs of precipitation.

Mathias always desired a space more vast. After residing in the paltry cabin for the entire twenty years of his life, he felt as if he had outgrown his childhood home.

However, they could still make good use of the old cabin. Berwald possessed the proper skills to patch up the holes and renovate the place slightly, making it more aesthetically pleasing. Then he would sell it. Mathias reckoned he could make another eight hundred kronas off of it. The deed had been in his name for the past six years. After all, he had automatically inherited it after his father's impetuous abandonment.

"Mm'. That's nice," Berwald mumbled as he scanned the the contents of the bag. Gathering the fish and potatoes, he placed them them on the kitchen counter for preparation later. His lips formed a tight frown as he eyed the large bottle of beer. "Wh't did I tell ya 'bout wast'n money on alcohol?"

"Aww, come on Waldy," Mathias cooed. He'd expected his cousin to be displeased. Berwald needed to loosen up a bit from time to time. "It's been forever since we've had anything to drink! You gotta let a guy live from time to time!"

"Y' had a glass last week. 'Nd the week b'fore y' downed 'n entire bottle 'f aquavit" Berwald's voice held an irate tone as he corrected. "Last month y' bought a whole -"

"Alright, alright!" Mathias injected. He poured a glassful and offered Berwald the first drink . "So I enjoy having some good liquor on occasion."

Shaking his head, Berwald rejected the offer. "I wouldn't call 'yer drinkin' occasional."

"Fine, maybe I do drink a lot. But this stuff's good! What's the harm in doing something nice for yourself? Oh well. Your loss." Mathias shrugged, taking a gulp. "Guess that makes more for me!"

Berwald had gone in the kitchen to prepare dinner. In the cupboard he pulled out a paring knife to gut and de-scale the fish. "If y' want that new store, y' bett'r cut back 'n yer habit."

Mathias scowled at the comment, but continued to drink. He knew Berwald had a valid point, but Mathias would never admit it. Rather than listening to reason, he'd probably just treat himself to another bottle next week. That was the major difference between his cousin and himself.

Even though they were related and bore a fairly similar appearance, with their well-built physiques, light eyes, and golden hair, they couldn't be more discordant in personality.

While Mathias was outgoing, social, brash and had a habit of acting without thinking, Berwald in contrary, was the type that listened more than talked. He was considerably more level-headed and tended to be spend his days indoors, keeping his social contact minimal. Berwald's reclusiveness extended to the point where he rarely ever left home, only exposing himself to the outside world in the case of an emergency. In fact, the only contact he had with the townsfolk and the open-air was through Mathias.

When Berwald wasn't busy crafting and carving new merchandise for Mathias to deliver into town and sell, he surrounded himself with books. Mathias was the reckless one, as this was one act he would never consider enjoyable. Instead, he'd rather be at the local bar, enjoying the food and spirits.

In addition to indulging in the various forms of literature, Berwald only bothered with practical books that aided in the increase of his knowledge. He enjoyed a variety of topics in his readings, ranging anywhere from ancient history to mechanical physics. Mathias knew that aspect of his cousin quite well. After all, he was the one that replenished Berwald's supply with material from the library. This week, he had brought an oddly book titled "Political Relations Between Mankind and Other Living Beings". While Mathias never understood why Berwald enjoyed those strange topics so much, he did have a rough idea of why Berwald spent all his leisure time on reading.

It was because Berwald no longer attended school. Perhaps his habit of reading was his way of compromising for the loss.

Unlike Berwald, Mathias had never reveled in the act of attending classes. He found the pursuit of academia quite boresome. Instead he preferred working outdoors and around other people, rather than being isolated around exorbitant amounts of mental work. For that, he had first considered Berwald the most fortunate person he'd ever known. It would be a few years afterwards that Mathias was finally allowed to halt his education, in order to work full time.

However, leaving school had not been Berwald's choice. Instead of rejoicing as Mathias had, he was distraught. It would seem odd that a studious child like Berwald would suddenly quit, but too much social pressure could cause the most aspiring to terminate their goal.

As their behavior suggested, the townsfolk were closed-minded and not accepting of those who were different. Berwald was among those who had an appearance considered an abomination.

While Mathias was considerably tall, Berwald's physique completely towered the room. Standing at an astounding 6'8, the tip of Berwald's head just under a foot lower than the ceiling.

Height was something Berwald was troubled with since youth. Ever since his childhood, Berwald had been noted for his remarkable stature. As he continued to grow at the same alarming rate, always found himself the tallest among other children his age. Now sixteen, his growth spurt seemed to finally stall, much to Berwald's own relief. He however, there was still the likely possibility that he was the largest person in the entire town, other than the infamous Lieutenant Braginski. There was still an uncanny difference, nonetheless. Lieutenant Braginski was an adult man, somewhere in his thirties and Berwald was only a teenager.

Supplementary to his height, Berwald had a tendency to glare. In actuality, he wasn't glaring. Berwald simply had a tendency to squint his eyes in order to focus better. While the gesture itself was innocent, it was often interpreted as a sign of hostility.

Berwald also had poor eyesight, which was indicated by the pair of wire-framed glasses on his nose. It had seemed that over the years, his vision declined further and the glasses were no longer strong enough. He might possibly plan a trip to the eye doctor in the future. For now, his sight wasn't bad enough to make it a priority and Berwald could resort to the squinting to get through his daily activities.

Mathias had known his cousin long enough to understand that Berwald had developed this method to keep his eyes from blurring. He couldn't blame others for feeling a bit intimidated however. As Berwald fixated a particular object or person, it seemed almost as if dark shadows were forming under his eyes. It could be quite menacing to someone unfamiliar with the mannerism.

Regardless of their tendency to bicker, they could be considered childhood friends. Mathias had grown up with Berwald. Thus, he knew that his cousin wasn't initially recluse. Life had been significantly smoother for Berwald when he was younger. He once was no different than the average child, visiting ice cream parlors, window shopping at toy stores, and attending mass with his parents on Sundays. Berwald even had his own group of friends. When the weather was pleasant, he would be outside, playing childhood games. On occasion, Mathias would tag along, taking advantage of the warm sunshine and fresh air.

Nonetheless, the situation took a shift for the worse as the town grew more conservative with the increasing influence of the Vatican church. There were some great ideas that came with the Vatican and others not so great. Among the negative impact, came the emphasis on expelling all persons deemed abnormal. With his tremendous height, unusual speech, and freakish glare, Berwald was at the top of the list.

The frenzy spread through the heart of the town and Berwald began to notice it from his neighbors, classmates, and people he once considered friends. Even his own parents weren't immune. Their treatment of Berwald worsened along with the town's repulsion of those who did not fit the norm. Everyone he knew began excluding him. His former friends and classmates had come to evade his presence and sever their ties. His parents considered him a burden to the family, and at times refused to be seen with him in public. Strangers stared, pointed and accused him of being ridiculous creatures - anywhere from a troll, all the way to a demon.

It wasn't long after, Berwald started to withdraw. Burdened by the mockery and afraid to shame his family, he lessened the time he spent outside and around other people, until he virtually ceased to leave the house all together. Mathias had witnessed the regression of his cousin, and it could only be described as troubling. Within a short amount of time, Berwald had transformed from a happy child, to a complete hermit.

In spite of all his hardships, the same series of unfortunate circumstances led to their current living arrangement.

Three years ago, Berwald's father had received a job promotion and needed to relocate to another town. At that time, Berwald was eager of the prospect of a new beginning, at an unfamiliar place. However, he was also uncertain. Leaving his hometown was a major change and he was not convinced if it would be a positive one. Turns out, that wasn't necessary.

On their moving day, Berwald's parents had sent him to a candy shop with two kronas, allowing him to purchase whatever sweets he desired. The gesture had been surprising from his normally overbearing parents. Berwald was delighted by their sudden kindness. However, after returning home with the bag of candy, his parents along with their belongings and wagon had vanished. After a while, Berwald's suspicions were confirmed. Rather than dealing with the mockery and gossip that came with their strange looking son, his parents decided to not go through such hassel. They had already left and he was abandoned. Afterwards, Berwald had no choice but to seek the help of his only relatives in town. Consequently he ended up living with Mathias, in their cramped, aged cabin.

Mathias found himself reminiscing again as he finished up this third glass of beer. Berwald poked his head from out the kitchen, signalling that dinner was ready. As Mathias predicted, Berwald had roasted both the fish and potatoes. even though it was a typical meal and a bland combination, at least the taste was decent and tolerable between the two of them.

As soon as the food was set on the table, Mathias dug in. He had exerted much energy today and it showed in his need for nourishment. "What?" he asked, upon seeing the look of abhorrence on Berwald's face. "I'm hungry."

"Y' can least give m' a chance to pl'ce the dining plates." Berwald remarked, taking the seat on the opposite side of the table. " 'Nd don't talk with yer mouth full. It's disgust'ng."

"Well I've been out and about all day." he shrugged, with disregard to anything Berwald had said. In fact, his mouth was most likely full of food as he spoke the last sentence. "My amazing charm and appearance need their fuel to sustain."

"Mm' y' should see the look on y' face right now." Berwald carefully poked his food, finally helping himself to his first serving. By then, Mathias had already gobbled down a good portion of the fish. Pieces of their dinner stuck to his cheeks as he ate. "Would h'rdly call th't amazing."

"That's cause you wouldn't know amazing if it pissed on top of your head." Mathias laughed. His mouth had been full of food during his few seconds of amusement, which resulted in a few pieces falling on the table.

"Why d' I even both'r" Berwald shook his head at the mess. His side was significantly more cleanly. "Well y' gonna clean that up 'cause 'm not touch'ng it."

"Whatever. It's not like you make me every night" Mathias snorted in response. "And it's not if I care for your opinion."

In all honesty, Berwald could condone his cousin's lack of table manners as long as Mathias understood that such odious behavior had its consequences. In the worst case scenario, Mathias would sulk for a good hour before realizing he had no choice but to fix his mess. Thus Berwald decided to let the issue slide. "H'w are things 'n town?"

"Eh, you know, same old. The old hag Ania stopped by and bought out all the toy dolls, which was where all that extra cash came from." Mathias paused to take a final drink of beer. He had gone through the bottle much faster than he'd expected. Now that he thought about it, the price of six kronas was a bit of a swindle. At least he enjoyed it while it lasted. "Oh yeah and there's a huge demand for those little religious wall crosses right now. We can probably squeeze some good cash out of this hype if we hurry."

"Ye'h I figured. Some pe'ple will believe an'thing the church tells th'm." It was likely from an mettlesome sermon from the past couple weeks, but the townsfolk had gotten the strange notion that nailing a cross to their doors would warrant some type of protection. "As if a p'ece of wood can defend y' from a bad w'tch."

If his cousin and he could agree on one thing, it was the ridiculous hysteria among the most superstitious townsfolk. Mathias gave a chuckle before changing to a more serious tone. "Now that you mentioned witches, I just remembered something I saw on my way home. There was another one of those executions today." he felt a chill run down his spine, as he recalled the sounds and smells. "Looks like they just keep getting worse and worse."

"Mm' th'ts not shock'ng." Berwald paused for a moment, poking at his food. "Y' would be surpr'sed t' think th't magic users were onc' 'n integr'ted part of society."

Mathias raised an eyebrow. "Well if that was the case, then things have really taken a full turn."

"Things we're peac'ful 'nd then the religon bec'me more influent'al. Th'ts when they started gett'ng suspicious 'f each other. It was j'st someth'ng I read earlier. Interest'ng t' ponder 'bout though," Berwald explained, summarizing the details from his readings this week. "But I'd be more careful when y' outs'de. Anyth'ng strange y' do can make pe'ple think y' into the dark arts."

"Ah, good for you and your bookworm-ness," Mathias found himself nodding absentmindedly. As the combined effect of beer, along with a hearty meal had kicked in and he felt drowsy, ready to turn in for the night. "I should be fine though." he stifled a yawn in the middle of his sentence. "I bet the townsfolk couldn't do without my stunning presence anyway."

He saw Berwald rolling his eyes at the arrogant comment. However, it seemed that the desire of ending the day's activities was mutual between the two of them. After another ten minutes of relatively eating in silence, they finished up their dinner. As promised, Mathias cleared the table and swept the mess on the floor. Berwald took care of the dishes, and after their nightly chores were complete, they took turns washing up at the designated bath space in the yard.

When all was done, Mathias snuggled into his bed. He saw Berwald turning off the lamp, before climbing the ladder towards his own berth. They had a bunk bed, as it was the only way to fit two in their small cabin. Tomorrow required an early commencement for the same routinely activities. It would be yet another day full of duties.

* * *

**Hello all and thank you for all your kind support the first chapter. Boy, I was nervous posting for the first time and your kind reviews really made me feel better.**

**Also I would like to thank the nice anon who pointed out my formatting error. It helped quite a bit, and I probably would have never noticed till much later.**

**Ehh, I don't like this chapter at all. It was all a big block of text before I went back and added in some dialogue. Hopefully it flows alright. I read through it once and fixed some parts, but this is probably the extent of my editing skills. ****I must say, Mathias and Berwald were harder to write than Tino. Hopefully they were in character and I didn't butcher them up too much. The reason for Berwald's love of books is because in my head canon, Sweden is probably the smartest out of the Nordic countries (not that the others aren't smart or anything ^^;) and his bookwormness may prove useful every once in a while.**

**Unfortunately not much happened this chapter. Boy, things are really moving slug pace, I just realized. Sorry about that. Next chapter will hopefully be more exciting as real things start to happen. This has mostly been an intro/prologue thingy. **

**Anyway. I'm mostly just glad I managed to get this chapter out within a week. Regular updates will probably be like once every two weeks though, since these chapters are fairly long - but don't hold me to any promises and things may change as I get busy with school work. ****Feel free to drop a message and tell me what you think. I'm a friendly person, I promise ^_^**


	3. Chapter 2

**Ashes to Ashes, Chapter 2**

Overall, the day had began uneventfully.

When Mathias arose the following morning, he proceeded with his typical routine. His first endeavor was to glance out the window. It was a bit later than the time he usually awoken. Dawn already loomed the sky, with a steady stream of sunlight peeking over the horizon. As much as he preferred the comfort of his bed, Mathias knew it was time to rise and begin the day. There was work to be done and much of it. He would have to arrive in town promptly, before the best spots were claimed by other street vendors. Reluctantly, he pushed off his sheets and pulled himself out of bed. The chill in the morning air served as a reminder of the tasks ahead and nearly made him regret the decision to leave the warm comfort of his covers.

He was thankfully greeted to the smells of breakfast. It served as an indicator for Berwald's timely activities. His cousin was already up, likely at least an hour before he had stirred. It was usual for Mathias to be the last one to rise. Berwald already washed up, cleared his bed, and started their morning meal before Mathias showed any signs of waking. Nonetheless, Mathias didn't consider himself indolent. Berwald was simply too timely for his own good. He followed suit, brushing his teeth, washing his face, and styling his hair back into its familiar spiked up and windswept look. His stomach growled as he headed towards the kitchen, following the promising smells of breakfast.

"Bout t'me y' woke up," Berwald spoke, without averting his eyes away from the newspaper in his hand. His face remained stoic, as he glanced from one page to another. "Was 'fraid I had to go up there 'nd pull y' out myself."

'_Fantastic_,' Mathias thought as he noted the scene. The paperboy already stopped by to deliver the daily news. No wonder his belated awakening had caused Berwald to be irate.

"Yeah, yeah. Well good morning to you too." Mathias gazed around, peering from the dining table to the kitchen next door, until his target was finally located on the counter. He grabbed the nearest mug to pour himself a large cup of coffee - only to find that it barely held enough for one small serving. His eyes narrowed at the sight. "You drank it all, didn't you?" Mathias stated more as a fact than an actual question.

"Y' Should've gotten up earl'r then." Berwald took a sip from his own cup, which was likely around his fifth helping, considering the amount of coffee that was normally made in the morning, in comparison to what was left in the pot. "Would say I've been gener'us."

Coffee was the one sacred drink in their household, other than beer. The second may be one sided on Mathias' behalf. Either way, neither of them liked to function before having an unhealthy dose of the warming black liquid. Mathias grumbled under his breath. Since he was already late, he would just have to make do with what was left. There wasn't enough time to brew a fresh pot.

Reluctantly, he helped himself to some breakfast. Berwald had made a simple meal from the combination of the same potatoes as the previous night and some falukorv that dated even further back. Like the rest of Berwald's cooking, the taste was average. Mathias scarfed down the starchy concoction of spuds and sausage, along with the leftover coffee. By the time he was finished, Mathias' felt significantly more lively and ready to begin his day. To his surprise, he had handled last night's splurge of alcohol well. Albeit feeling a tad more lethargic than usual, but even that faded away fast, with the caffeine entering his system.

With that, Mathias headed outside to prepare. He unlocked the shed and loaded the wagon with a new supply of merchandise to take to town. Yesterday had depleted their stock a noticeable amount, but there were still enough goods on storage to last another day. Knowing Berwald, he likely already started the process of making a new stock. His cousin had much better attention to detail and noticed these particular things first. Mathias unchained the horse from the post to the wagon and saddled it in, giving it the customary nudge.

After signaling Berwald on behalf of his departure, Mathias rode to town. He travelled on his usual path, as his brief breakfast, at the cost of a few extra cups of coffee, had made up for lost time enough that he no longer had the need to rush. He had checked the time before he left and for the most part, he was on schedule. For that, Mathias grinned, proud of his innate talent of pulling things together at the last minute.

Fortunately for Mathias, a few excellent spaces were still available for vending when he arrived at the town center. He unloaded a few items from the wagon: a coffee table, a designer vase, and a set of stools that he figured he could try and sell off today. He arranged his spot in an aesthetically pleasing and eye-catching fashion to best attract potential customers. Then Mathias waited and waited some more. He ended up spending the vast majority of his workday doing just that.

It seemed for some odd reason, a good majority of the townsfolk had chosen to remain indoors, as the streets were more empty as usual. Mathias watched the scene and felt frustrated due to the lack of action. Every hour, only a few dozen people passed down the road. Even during peak times, there were only about half the normal amount of shoppers and carriages.

The inactivity also reflected in his business. There were only a fraction of the amount of customers he had yesterday. It had gotten to the point where he spent the majority of the time sitting idly. To ease the lack of excitement, Mathias even resorted to staring up at the clouds, trying to make out funny shapes in them. Thus when it was finally time to gather up and head home, Mathias felt relieved.

He packed his vendor, loaded the wagon and prepared the horse for the journey home.

Before he headed back, Mathias visited his accustomed places of interest. At the market, he purchased a loaf of rye and vegetables. It wasn't as enjoyable as yesterday's meal, but would have to make do. Sales were not as high as the previous day. He could not afford the same luxuries, thus the better choice would be to settle for something less. It was a minor inconvenience, as it reminded him of the meals he had daily, before the business had blossomed.

Carrying the groceries back to the wagon, Mathias let out an inward groan. He remembered that Berwald had asked him to drop by the library. His cousin needed more reading material, and without it, was likely to be idle enough to become even more uptight than his usual self. Mathias didn't enjoy the extra criticism, so he complied. It kept Berwald preoccupied and away from other matters, which Mathias found too trivial to heed his attention. Without giving it much thought, he dropped off the completed book in exchange for the first object he encountered.

Subsequently, Mathias continued down the rustic road back to his residence. In accordance with the rest of the atmosphere of the town, it was lifeless. Those who enjoyed the tranquility of a scenic evening would find the setting of interest. However, Mathias was not of that type, so he found the trip to be no where near pleasing. In spite of it, he decided to keep himself entertained and perhaps enjoy the view. Giving his horse a light stroke on its neck, he let himself sit back and over the course of the next couple minutes, he even found himself enjoying the leisure and relaxing.

It was an odd sight that caught his attention and returned his mind back to concentration. Ahead, and slightly more north west than his current direction, was an odd blur of indigo, around a quarter of a kilometer off the road. Although it wasn't particularly small, it blended well with the local plant life, as the surrounding grass and shrubs obscured his view. If Mathias hadn't been looking at the right place and right time, he may have even missed it. He halted his horse, giving the reins a firm tug. With his curiosity piqued, Mathias decided to examine the object.

As he approached, the strange object began to take form. It wasn't as clean and pristine as he originally thought. Dirt and grime that covered the surface, giving the would be vibrant color a lackluster appearance. Mathias was within a couple yards from the object, before he noticed the front was sprawled out, as if it had a set of sleeves. Otherwise, the object remained relatively smooth and even, until somewhere near the center, where it separated out into two, thinner strips. The approximate location of the two strips made it seem as if it were a full set of clothes. Mathias scratched his head as he came closer. Typically, people do not abandon their clothing out in the open field unless they were trying to destroy evidence after enacting a crime or hide their identity.

Despite being aware that he could be getting himself into something unsettling, it was the same prospect that kept Mathias interested in the object. After all, he felt as if he could use some excitement, after the dreary day. In his mind, he envisioned a few humorous scenarios on how the misdemeanor could have occurred - from a professional underground jewel heist to an insane asylum escapee. He chuckled, amused at the potential that someone could be wandering through the woods, completely nude.

Mathias found himself nearly standing next to the object when he realized what it actually was. His eyes widened as he let out a startled gasp. Rather than simply being a discarded blouse and a pair of dress pants on the ground, the clothing came with another attachment; a human body.

In an instant, the last traces of his comedic mood completely vanished. This was far more serious than Mathias had imagined. The body lay to its side and from what Mathias could make out, it was badly battered and bruised. The skin was a sickly, pale color and it had likely been there, laying lifelessly on the ground for at least a couple hours. He had expected some type of felony behind the clothing, but never had he imagined it to be so heinous.

Cautiously, Mathias examined the scene. He became reluctant to touch the body. Judging by the injuries, the poor soul was probably maltreated to a gruesome death. Sometime later, it was smuggled away from town and into the outskirts, where it was then carelessly dumped. The culprit had plausibly figured that very few would traverse on such a path, and chose the spot with such expectations. Mathias shook his head. It was a pity, but he should be heading home, as it was late. Making a note to himself, the first thing he would do in the morning was to pay a visit to the station and report the body to the police. Hopefully there on out, the officials could gather evidence and track the perpetrator behind the murder.

Just when he was about to leave and carry out what he planned, Mathias noticed the slight rustle of the patch of grass near the head. He knelt down to get a better look and within a few seconds, the grass fluttered again. Perhaps Mathias was much too startled to be relieved. His suspicions were confirmed as he glanced over the body once more. It had been so faint that he may have failed to notice, had he not been watching diligently.

This was no mangled corpse. The slow rising and falling of the chest indicated otherwise.

The fact that he now faced a person - injured and likely in need of medical attention, but nevertheless still alive, caused a change in his course of action. Night would soon be approaching and with the darkness, came the possibility of being in contact with of carnivorous animals, such as bears and wolves.. Even if the person had been fortunate enough to survive the injuries from the attempted murder, the glutenous jaws of the local wildlife was a whole other challenge. Mathias had witnessed such scenarios around the area. Although the chances of encounter were somewhat slim, they were often fatal, even for a healthy adult man. On top of the probability of being the next meal for a pack of man-eating creatures, the temperature would take a major plunge. The frigid air, while nursing a multitude of physical trauma, would be difficult on the body. In the absence of shelter and treatment, the person would unlikely be alive by morning. Mathias knew he couldn't leave without intervening.

"Are you alright?" Mathias gave the person a nudge. There was no response. He had expected that much, as the person in question seemed long lost into the realm of unconsciousness.

Mathias felt apprehensive and wondered if he took the correct course of action. His experience in such situations were minimal and he held a fear of making a mistake and causing further injury. Nonetheless, he followed his instinct and pulled himself closer to the person. Sliding his left arm under the crook of the neck, Mathias figured he could fulfill the role as a makeshift gurney. As he positioned his other arm near the torso, he secured his grip.

He would have to move the person from the ground and towards his wagon. Unsure of the safety of pulling such a maneuver, Mathias realized there was little choice. Soon, the sun would completely set, leaving the outside devoid of light. Thus, he strained his knees, pulling himself into a standing position, with the injured person between his arms.

The first step was successful and with that, Mathias was finally able to see the unidentified person up close. From what Mathias could tell, the person was male and surprisingly lightweight. To Mathias' delight, that factor itself made the move significantly easier. Even though the other man's slender build, as Mathias had just noticed, could have been an indicator, he had not predicted how pleasant the endeavor would be.

The action had turned the man upright and Mathias could catch a good glimpse of his visage. He bore an appearance that was similar to the other locals . His blond hair, whilst it being a shade lighter than Mathias' own and may suggest a heritage from a region just slightly more north, was on the long side and reached his chin. His face was angular and held an youthful appeal, which Mathias attempted to assign an age. If he had to estimate, Mathias would say the other man was just a year or two younger than himself. Long lashes framed the man's eyes and although they were closed, Mathias could picture them as one of his more prominent features. Mathias couldn't help but think that the combined effect of those facial characteristics were rather aesthetically pleasing. It would be a shame if the pretty thing succumbed to his injuries.

Luckily for Mathias, he had reached his wagon, with the injured man still nestled against his chest. Then came the next hurdle. He would have to transport both himself and the said man to the nearest shelter, on horse. Mathias shifted the man so he leaned completely against the left side of his body. Using the his right hand and leg, Mathias pulled the both of them onto the saddle. The seating arrangement wasn't comfortable, but he would have to endure.

Mathias pondered for a moment on the best resolution.

If he were to head towards town, he would need to take the man to the nearest hospital. There, the man could receive proper treatment and medical attention for his injuries. While it initially seemed to be the better idea, Mathias realized that a visit to the said place required money, which he did not have much on hand. After purchasing groceries, he had roughly fifteen kronas and hospital fees were generally much higher. Had he made that decision, there would be the impeding chance of being rejected.

The other choice was to take the man home. Despite not being well equipped for such manners, Mathias was certain there was a first aid kit somewhere in the house. Perhaps he could find some disinfectants and bandages to help alleviate the lesions. There was also Berwald. Although his cousin may initially be reluctant, Mathias knew that in the long run, Berwald would unlikely have any disagreements and was not the type to turn away a stranger in dire need. Mathias gazed at the darkening sky, and it was with that glimpse, he made the official call.

With a loose estimate of their current location, Mathias realized that he was much closer to home than the town. If he attempted to ride to the hospital, it would be night time before he reached his destination. In contrary, the remaining distance to his home were only a few minutes by horse. He pulled the man closer against his chest, with the force of his left arm. Using his other hand, he gripped the reins, giving the horse a nudge.

The rest of the trip felt unsettling. Mathias was used to the roughness of the road and the uneven trot of his horse, but this time, with his delicate cargo, he could not find himself at ease. He tightened his grip, both on the man and his horse, his knuckles turning white in the process. His dread of falling increased as they traveled.

To Mathias' astonishment, they arrived with little disturbance along the ride. He lifted off the horse in the same manner as he got on, with one arm as support and the other to keep the injured man firmly attached against him. Mathias would have to worry about his cargo later, but for safety, he closed the gate behind him before giving the front door a hasty knock.

There was an uncanny look upon his cousin's face as he answered. His eyes narrowed as he pursed his lips, seemingly with the intention of giving a harsh scolding for his tardiness. That was until he glimpsed at the strange bundle in Mathias' arms. The stern appearance was replaced with one of confusion.

"Well, it's kind of a long story, Waldy. I'll fill you in later." Mathias loosened his grip, as his hands were beginning to exhaust from the strain. He had been exerting extra force throughout the trip home and would appreciate some alleviation from the pressure. "I hope you don't mind."

Berwald's peering eyes watched with curiosity before they widened in surprise, at the realization of what Mathias held. "Don't tell m' this is what I th'nk it is."

"If your guess is a live human being, you are absolutely correct," Mathias attempted to pitch in a hint of humor. Perhaps it would loosen up Berwald's mood and allow him to be more accepting an unexpected guest. "Anyway, we're keeping him. At least for tonight."

Berwald furrowed his brows at the proclamation. "Well I supp'se it's too late for anyth'ng else now." Although his tone was firm, Mathias could hear a hinge of sympathy behind it. " 'Nd I would apprec'ate full details on what happen'd."

"Heh, relax. No need for the long face," Mathias knew exactly where he was headed, as soon as he entered. He gave a light smile. If anything, he was relieved at Berwald's immediate cooperation. "I wasn't responsible for this. Nor have I done anything that could potentially land me in prison. The story's pretty boring quite honestly."

"Oh? That's new," came the sarcastic reply.

"Yeah, yeah. Very funny." He rolled his eyes at the remark. The cabin lacked space to begin with, and everything inside was compact to fit. Ill-suited for nothing more than its current occupants, it held no extra room for anything that could possibly be used as a makeshift comforter. The sleeping arrangement may be troublesome later. Mathias let out a sigh as he placed the injured man on his bed. "Anyway, as I came home from town like everyday, I found this guy just off the road. Thought he was dead at first, but turns out he just collapsed. He's still pretty badly injured though, and I couldn't just leave him out there all helpless and everything, you know."

"I see," Berwald responded as he appeared with a basket full of supplies. "We may b' short here 'nd have t' send him t' a hosp'tal. But I'll see wh't I can d' first."

Within the pile, there was a roll of gauze, some medical tape, a bag of cotton balls, and a few bottles, each labeled a different color for distinction. Mathias felt confused by the assortment. "Well it was late when I found him, and it would've been dangerous travelling after dusk. Plus I didn't exactly have the money on hand for the hospital visit." he clarified. "Figured if I had to come home to get more, I'd least bring him over for the night."

Mathias found himself grimacing slightly as he watched Berwald examine the man. Under the light of their home, he had a more precise view on just how horrible the injuries were. Berwald on the other hand, remained relatively calm, as he peered at the various scrapes and bruises. Subsequently, he shifted his head towards the man's face and pressed a hand to the forehead. "Looks like y' made the right decis'on then, b'cause he also has a fever. From wh't I've heard, we should try t' get th't down as soon as poss'ble, or things can qu'ckly get worse." Mathias reckoned that Berwald had likely learnt the medical jargon from from the immense amount of time he spent reading and thus better suited for tending the needs of a sickly person.

"Anything I can do to help?" Mathias asked, beginning to feel useless with the current situation at hand. Compared to Berwald, he had little idea on such topics.

"We need water. One 'n a glass 'nd the other 'n a bucket, since he's probably dehydr'ted." Berwald directed, still fixating his attention to the man. "If y' can, get a hand towel 's well."

"Already on it." Mathias proceeded to the kitchen. There he pulled a cup from the cabinet. Nearby was the pantry, where there was a mid-sized container full of onions. It was the closest object to a bucket they had. With that,turned the container on its side, emptying the onions in a pile on the lower shelf.

In the sink, he opened the faucet. Mathias filled the cup first, before giving the bucket a quick rinse and allowing the water to come to the brim. He brought the items back to Berwald and departed for the storage closet, where he located a small towel.

When Mathias returned, he noticed that Berwald holding the cup with one hand and using the other to dab water near the man's mouth, with a cotton ball. Mathias bit his lip in confusion. "What the heck is that?"

"Giving him someth'ng t' drink," Berwald explained, as he continued with the action.

"Isn't that going to take forever though?" Mathias couldn't help but find the statement odd "Wouldn't it be much faster if we just tilt his head up or something and pour the water instead?"

"Y' probably shouldn't d' that." Berwald dabbed a few more times before discarding the cotton ball and setting the cup down. "It's only safe t' give a little bit 't a time or y' may end up drown'g him." He then took the towel and plopped it into the container. When the towel became soaked with water, he squeezed it dry and placed it on the man's forehead. "This will low'r his fever, if y' were wonder'ng."

Berwald continued to inspect the man, this time carefully peeling back the top of the shirt, to check for any major lesions. "So, I guess I'll get us started on dinner," Mathias spoke after a couple more minutes of observing the scene. Berwald gave an affirmative grunt in response.

From the looks of it, his cousin had the situation mostly settled and in control. Mathias was aware of the day, and the fact that it was his turn to prepare dinner. The groceries were still outside, so he exited the house to fetch them from his wagon.

To Mathias' fortune, in the brief period of his neglect, the horse, wagon, and his merchandise remained relatively in their proper places. He followed the routine and switched the horse's anchor from the wagon to the post, before and maneuvering the wagon into the shed. There, he grabbed the groceries and locked up for the night.

When he was back inside, Mathias began the dinner. It would be simple today, as he did not enjoy housework as much as Berwald, and it was apparent in the effort he exerted into the concoction of the meals. Mathias carried the bag and carried it to the kitchen counter. He separated the vegetables from the rest of the items, which he then placed in the sink, allowing them to soak in water before scrubbing off the grime. With the assistance of a pruning knife, he divided the pieces into smaller bits. After the preparation was complete, Mathias stoked the stove, positioning a skillet pan over the open flame. Depositing some oil onto the pan, he allowed it heat for a few seconds, before adding the vegetables along with some salt. It would be a simple dish, that somewhat resembled a stir-fry. He waited for around ten minutes, shifting and stirring. The finished vegetables were plated onto the dining table, along with a loaf of dark rye.

Once everything was complete, Mathias headed back in the bedroom to notify Berwald.

"I've looked 'ver some 'f his wounds 'nd disinf'cted a few 'n his chest 'nd legs." Berwald filled him in on the current predicament, whilst proceeding over dinner. "F'r the most part, they don't seem t' be life threat'ning. I th'nk the main problem 's his fever. We'll have t' wait 'nd see how 't plays out tom'rrow."

"Tomorrow you say?" Mathias asked, tilting his head in curiosity, as he reached over to help himself to a slice of the bread.

"Ay', he's fairly stable f'r now. I don't believe w' need t' rush him t' urgent care 'r anyth'ng. We'll just have t' let him rest f'r the night." described Berwald, once he too had settled down at the table to commence the evening meal.

"If you say so." Mathias trusted his cousin on such issues, even though it was mainly out of his own incompetence. Berwald was generally well-read enough to handle these complicated cases.

"I'll let y' know 'f anyth'ng comes up, b't we should just let th'ngs be." Berwald continued his appraisal in the midst of taking a few bites. His table manners were a tad more deficient than usual and hunger was apparent, as the dinner had been served late. "In th' worst case scenario, 'nd his fever doesn't impr've, y' may have t' take him t' the hospital, 'n your way t' town."

"Heh, that's good to hear, Waldy. Excellent work!" Mathias couldn't help but give a cheer. Even he could admit that Berwald had quite the knack for his problem solving skills, every now and then.

As they finished up the rest of the dinner, Mathias found himself in a dilemma. He frowned as the realization dawned upon him. Earlier, he had rather impulsively given up his bed for the injured man. Under the current circumstances, he would be the one that no longer had a resting spot. Mathias pondered through his options and for a second, and considered the possibility of sharing. Nevertheless the idea was discarded quickly. Foremost, on his bed was a complete stranger. The following morning would be quite awkward, not to mention borderline inappropriate. There was also Berwald's bunk. Due to Mathias' own reluctance, that would be completely out of the question - not that Berwald would agree to such a thing either. The arrangement was likely impossible as well, in accordance to their body frames.

It left him with one last choice. He would have to utilize the floor. Mathias grumbled to himself as he grabbed a pillow and two sets of blankets from the closet. Setting one of the blankets in the empty space of the bedroom, Mathias made a makeshift cot. He then placed a pillow on top of the mattress for comfort. The second blanket would serve as the actual covers, and as the framework was finished, Mathias laid down to test the texture. The floor was rigid and rough against his back. Despite it being far from pleasant, it was manageable enough that he could tolerate it for a short amount of time. '_Least it was all in the name of a good deed.'_ so he thought, as he turned in for the night.

* * *

**Aww yeah, I'm on a roll with this story! :D**

**********Note: if there's anyone who just started reading on this chapter, I have deleted all of Lukas' scenes from chapter 1, both part a and b. I apologize if the decision is not popular, but after reading through the story, I have realized how repetitive this whole thing is. Hopefully this is my chance to redeem the story a bit.**

**Last thing before I end this long drabble - Anyone know a good name for Germaina and Vatican City? I need them in my story, and I would prefer not to resort to just inserting a random German/Italian sounding name for them.**

**Once again, thank you for the favs and kind reviews. They really help inspire me to write :) See you next time**

**- Miz**


	4. Chapter 3

**Ashes to Ashes, Chapter 3**

**Beta'd by: TheOtaku2**

* * *

To say that mess duty was inconvenient, was an utmost understatement. Tino had expected that cleaning after brash, grubby soldiers would be unnerving, but the horrors he experienced today, was a whole challenge in itself. He had not anticipated the exhaustion that also came as part of the package.

The vast majority of the disarray had been on the floor, not that it wasn't always a mess to begin with; and alike every other calamity in his life, he was the unfortunate fool that ended up on his knees, scrubbing it spotless. By the time Tino had finished, his hands were raw and blistered from the exertion. The cleaning had drained much of the energy out of him. His body, strained and sore with tension, had not experienced such agony since the first weeks of his training at the military boot camp, a few years back.

Tino gave a disgruntled sigh. He could use something pleasant, and a cold glass of vodka would suffice his desire to draw some happiness at the end of the dreadful day. If he were quick, perhaps there would be enough time to visit the nearby pub for a few rounds of drinks. He took a glance at the plastered clock against the wall. Both hands were pointed northwest, signaling the time as "_21:53"._ To Tino's dismay, it would be lights out in less than an hour.

'_What a shame,_' he thought, as he headed towards the direction of the dorms instead. There would be no time for that much needed shot of vodka. He wasn't sure what exactly had came over him, but right at that moment, Tino had the temptation to let out a frustrated shriek, as he finally perceived his bitter predicament. He had spent his entire evening working - extra work to say the least, all the while his colleagues were outside having a jolly time.. He knew the rest of the punishment would be as awful, if not worse. Only one day into mess duty and it already was nightmarish.

Already, he was remorseful towards the actions that had led him in such a pickle. He would never condone the atrocious acts of the witch hunt, but nonetheless, he wished that he had kept his mouth shut instead, even as Tim and Gilbert had commenced with their teasing. He should have acted in a more subtle manner, rather than throwing a tantrum and insulting back. Thus was the deed which led to the initiation of the quabble and landed him in this miserable state.

As he returned to his residence, Tino decided to utilize the rest of his time for a long bath. He visited his locker to grab a towel, some toiletries, and his nightgown, before heading towards the bathhouse. There, he would have the water on high. It was to the extent where is fellow comrades would shift him an odd gaze as the steam from his soak was strong enough to send clouds of vapor into the air. Occasionally it would even land him a scolding from a commanding officer, as such an endeavor had the tendency to raise the temperature of the entire room by a couple degrees. Nevertheless, it was a treat for Tino, as it reminded him of the pleasant heat from the lulling saunas of his childhood. The sensation felt pleasing as it alleviated the pressure and relaxed his aching muscles. With that, he was able to escape the reminder that tomorrow, the same exhilarating process would be repeated again.

'_I can't possibly withstand more of this kind of life. Especially not with the increase in witch hunts._' He tried to relax his muscles, leaning back into the water.

Tino sustained his bath for around another twenty minutes. For something to be so exhilarating and enjoyable, it brought a satisfactory closure to his awful wished he could continue the soak for a prolonged amount of time.

He gave a disappointed grumble. The exploit had gotten to a point where it started becoming unreasonable and therefore, a conclusion seemed a wiser decision. With a disheartened huff, Tino stepped away from the warm comfort. Grabbing a towel, he dried the water off his body, all the while, he kept it tight and fairly close to himself. The cool temperature of the air had a rather significant contrast compared to the cozy sensation of the bath. Cursing his clumsiness, Tino nearly found himself losing his footing upon the maneuver. Fortunately, he managed to retain his balance and readjust to a secured position. '_Success!' _Tino gave himself a quiet cheer. He could certainly do without the painful scrapes and bruises colliding with floor would produce.

With a gasp of relief, he noted the next thing he was grateful for. No one was around to see. Such blunder would be enough to make him the laughing stock of the squadron for the next couple days.

After slipping on his nightgown he headed towards the dormitory. His bed was one among the dozens bunks that shared the same, crowded room. Therefore, it had not been surprising that a group of soldiers were already inside, preparing for the night. With only around a quarter of an hour left before the lamps were shut off, many were also finishing the last of their routine.

With a turn of his head, Tino found his ears oddly tuned in on the closest conversation.

"What an awesome night this has been," a distinctive voice slurred. "Not nearly as awesome as myself of course, but golly, I can't say I've done anything this exciting since joining this wretched place."

With his cheeks tinged the a shade that was nearly the color of his eyes, distinctively staggered walking, and sluggish movements, Gilbert, without a doubt, had a substantial amount of alcohol flowing through this system. Moisture was also apparent in his hair, as droplets of water dripped on his shoulders and back. Tino thought it was unusual. Had Gilbert taken a bath, surely they would have seen each other, given the fact that Tino had just recently returned from the area. Nonetheless, his memories recalled the entire bathhouse empty other than himself.

Despite Gilbert's bizarre appearance, he was not of concern to Tino, as the man beside him.

"_Da_. I must admit. You certainly have good tastes, Sergeant Beilschmidt," Spoke another familiar voice, and Tino's eyes immediately widened in surprise.

Ivan Braginski rarely visited the soldier dorms, quite honestly never had a reason to, unless it either came bearing a punishment for some hapless soul, or out of emergency orders.

However, with the words that had came from his mouth and the flushed look upon his face, it did not seem that the Lieutenant was here over important matters. Yet, if Tino's suspicions proved true, it would only heighten the strangeness of the scenario. With his own spacious loft, there were even less times Ivan appeared at the residence out of leisure.

On Ivan's face was a peculiar air, that was rather similar to Gilbert's, as his cheeks too were flushed with the hint of red and his breath reeked with the hint of fresh vodka. For Tino, it the indication was clear. Not only had Ivan and Gilbert been drinking together, but it was also likely that they had gone to some unusual place, to which he had yet to put a finger on.

Although the moisture on Gilbert indicated that of a recent bathing, Ivan held a more extreme and puzzling version. Both his hair and clothes were dripping wet. If the man had taken a bath, then he certainly had been fully clothed, before entering the tub.

Tino was perplexed at what situation could have possibly happened between the pair, despite not being enthusiastic to learn. Rather, he leaned more towards the inclination to avoid the two - whom he reminded himself had been the very people that were responsible for his heinous punishment as well as making his day a miserable mess. Perhaps he was also slightly jealous at the fact that they had just engaged in the activity he had hoped to enjoy, but lacked the time, due to such punishment.

Gilbert's grin stretched wide across his face, as Ivan's encouragement stoked his ego. "Of course. What else would you expect from my awesome self?"

"Indeed. A job well done, Sergeant Beilschmidt." It was Ivan's next words that caught the attention from the majority in the room, as heads turned in bewilderment. He spoke with no secrecy, as if he wanted to publicize the statement. "I did not know that - what you called it, _skinny dipping_ could be so enjoyable."

"I must admit, I am quite impressed, Ivan." Gilbert's tone was equally shameless. In accordance to his typical habit, he had forgotten the formalities towards his superior and possibly it had also been his intention to be overheard. A close friendship with the Lieutenant could become powerful leverage against his comrades. "I didn't expect you had that in ya!"

"Oh is that what you think of me?" For a second, Tino could have sworn that he heard an odd noise coming from Ivan. It was one that seemed completely contradictory to his giant stature, almost as if it was a playful giggle. Then again, as Tino figured, it could have simply been his ears could be deceiving him. "I may be your commander and I may have authoritative powers, but everybody needs some enjoyment once in a while, _da_?"

"Next time" Gilbert gave his eyebrows a wiggle in a manner so suggestive, it looked rather ridiculous. "If you feel like letting loose your wild side again, I can show you some other nice places as well."

"_Da_. I wouldn't mind that." Tino, who had given his best effort to tune out the entire conversation, ended up relatively unsuccessful throughout the plight. All efforts only left his curiosity piqued. While he had been somewhat aware of the two-way sucking up Gilbert and Ivan frequently engaged in, this most definitely seemed to be the first instance of actual socialization between the Lieutenant and an underling.

In the next moment, Ivan cleared his throat before glancing around the room to face the rest of the soldiers. "Lights will be off in five minutes, so it would be in your _best interest_ to head over to your bunks now. We have much work tomorrow." His voice dropped an octave to emphasize the command in the middle of his speech.

The room grew silent, followed by Ivan's departure. Tino's uncanny feelings were shared among his comrades, as the entire room stood frozen, baffled by the behavior of their commander. When Ivan was clearly out of earshot, the awkward stillness was broken by Tim, whom resided in the bunk directly on top of Gilbert's.

The Corporal shifted, so his torso leaned over the railing, as he bent down to address his friend. "As much as I hate to say this, nicely done there. What a way to weasel yourself out of trouble."

As Tino followed the order and prepared for a night's worth of rest, the discussion persisted .He found himself eavesdropping. Settling into the comfort of his covers, he listened, finally receiving the explanation of the situation that had left his mind boggled earlier.

"Ha! No doubt about that." Gilbert gave a cheer, proud of his accomplishment. "I was sure that I would have my ass handed to me when he caught me nude in the river."

Tim shrugged in response. "Really though. Only you would be able to pull him in and live to tell the tale. Congratulations, you are one lucky dog."

"I'm just awesome like that." Gilbert's boast was supplemented with his right hand curled into a fist, and his thumb pointing backwards towards himself. "Total mission success, even though it did end up costing me a full bottle of vodka - which Ivan owes me roughly fifteen kronas for."

"You don't actually expect _him _to pay you back, right?" Tim spoke, with a hinge of sarcasm in his tone. "I'd consider it a fair exchange for the more undesirable outcomes that could have happened instead."

"Well to be honest, the first thing on my mind was the possibility that he couldn't swim and drown. You know the drill. I can't be punished if he isn't alive to give out the punishment. But anyway, it went much better than I expected and you'd be surprised to know how much amusement our dear commander here can withstand." Gilbert, who enthusiastically explained his version of the story and been too focused on the thrill of his triumphant evasion and neglected to fulfill any of his pre-bedtime duties. Thus he was still dressed, full uniform and boots, when the lamps were snuffed out for the night.

There was a groan and a loud thump, as Gilbert clambered his way through the darkness, tripping over his own feet. Shortly afterwards, it was followed by a string of colorful language, as he had accidently climbed into the wrong bed.

The struggle carried on for a good while, until Gilbert eventually made his way to the correct bunk. It had been amusing while it lasted. Burying his face into the pillow to disguise the noise, Tino couldn't help but find himself giggling throughout the ordeal.

…

Mathias reckoned it was fairly late when he reached home. Glancing at the sky, he noticed that it had turned a navy blue hue due to the absence of light. A thin layer of clouds hovered overhead, distinguishing the partly cloudy weather. The clouds, rather than the typical milky and opaque color, were bright orange as the sun commenced its descent over the horizon.

Sales today were fairly average and he managed a net count of 25 kronas. Thus would reflect in tonight's meal, as Mathias often calculated his expenses in accordance to his earnings. Compared to the measly amount of the previous day, they would be having a bit of a splurge. His grocery bag contained a pound of cheaply ground pork and some vegetables, as any meal was considered sumptuous, when it came with a form of protein.

When he reached the vicinity of his home, Mathias followed the routine once again; chaining the horse to its post, before unloading the wagon into the shed and securing the merchandise inside, with the lock of the door.

"Waldy! How's your day been so far?" he greeted with an exaggerated grin as Berwald answered the door. It had become customary for Mathias to hold a cheerful mood, as it was the fuel for his motivation and work ethic throughout the day. Today however, it seemed less appreciated than usual by his cousin.

"Hello, and pl'ase keep y' voice down," Berwald's lips curled downward into a grimace upon hearing the racket. "Y' can do that r'ght? 'F not, I suggest y' stay outside f'r a couple more min'tes."

"Huh?" Mathias scratched his head, confused at the odd request. "Now what's going on and why do you want me to keep quiet?"

Berwald shut the door behind him and lowered his volume down a notch, before speaking. "Y' know the man y' brought home yest'rday?" Well he's come t'o."

"Oh? That's great. I would definitely like to see this!" Although Mathias was delighted at the prospect of officially meeting the strange man, all the effort Berwald's had gone through in keeping the discussion confidential left him baffled. "But I have to ask, what's with all the secrecy?"

"What did I tell y' ab'ut keeping quiet Math'as? 'N the first pl'ce, It's not polite t' not have people hear y' talk ab'ut them." His cousin gave a disgruntled sigh before continuing. " Anyway, he's just awoken around 'n hour ago 'nd seems stress'd out from the wh'le ordeal. 'M trying m' best t' help by making things quiet f'r him."

"Ah, well other than the stress, I'm liking the way things sound here. How is he now?" Mathias asked, curious about the events he missed while he was away at work.

"He's m'de a good rec'very." Berwald explained, the natural sounds of his speech were already low, and Mathias had to strain his ears to hear. "The fever's most'y gone. How'ver he st'll needs some m're rest."

For some unfathomable reason he could not quite comprehend, Mathias found himself thrilled, upon knowing the news. Perhaps he had simply been curious at their unexpected meeting yesterday evening, or maybe he had just wanted to speak with someone different and outside the norm - someone other than Berwald and the patrons that frequented his shop. Whatever the motive was, Mathias did not have the faintest clue about his keen interest.

"Come on Waldy, don't hog all the fun to yourself." Mathias proclaimed, noticing how his cousin stood. Berwald was unmoving, and fixated in a position that completely barricaded the entrance of the home. "I'd like to meet the new guy as well."

"Careful." Berwald apprised as his brows furrowed together, "Y' may find it diff'cult. I tried talk'ng t' him earlier 'nd couldn't get anyth'ng productive out 'f him."

Despite it being somewhat of a delicate subject, Mathias couldn't help but give a snort, amused at the prospect of his stoic cousin trying to hold a conversation. If anything, Berwald had likely made things awkward with his eerie glare, and then failed to utter anything that was vaguely unintelligible. "That's because your face reminds people of an overgrown mountain troll. And that's only one more reason you should let me have a shot." he gloated, running a hand through his windswept hair. "I'm sure he wouldn't be able to resist my charisma."

"Don't be to' full 'f yourself." Berwald rolled his eyes at the comment. "Y' make th'ngs worse with that att'tude."

"Whatever. I'm sure either way, I'd be able to get further than you. Come on Waldy," He pleaded again. "Let me have a try!"

"Fine, g' ahead. Y' never stop bugging until y' get what y' want." Berwald paused to grumble something under his breath, before he stepped aside to let Mathias pass. "Don't say I didn't warn y'."

Without missing a beat, Mathias entered and immediately headed towards the bedroom. His path however, was soon haltered, as the door was shut.

"Hey," He called, giving few hard knocks. "Hope you're decent in there, because I'm about to drop you a visit." Mathias waited a couple seconds, and when there were no signs of a protest in response, he let himself inside

In that instant, all the excitement he held towards meeting the man vanished. Mathias felt slightly bewildered by the sight. In all honesty, Mathias did not know what to expect, the moment he entered the room; nor was he able explain the irresolute sensation that had suddenly overcame him. His muscles tightened, and in complete contradiction to his usual, social personality, Mathias was almost tempted to turn around and go the opposite direction. Nonetheless, he swallowed the lump in his throat and persisted forward.

The man in question sat upright. His back leaned against the headboard of the bunk, perfectly still. Even as he was approached, the man showed no signs of motion, and had no apparent awareness of the other presence in the room. It was in a manner that resembled a statue, and if Mathias hadn't known better, he may have even mistaken him as such.

Mathias knelt down as he reached the side of the bed, bringing himself at eye level with the man. "Hey there. You gave us quite a scare yesterday."

He gave the man some time to respond, and when there were no signal that such would occur, he found himself dumbfounded. Despite all the interactions he held daily, never had Mathias approached a person as seemingly unwelcoming and apathetic as the man before him. Mathias ran a list of the potential scenarios through his head. In a feasible case, the man could be terrified of being approached by a stranger. Perhaps, prior to their meeting, said man had lived a life where he was completely isolated from human interaction, and therefore, felt overwhelmed by the sudden gestures. Mathias discredited the notion, as the man was too inanimate for such a situation. People who came from such an environment would vibrantly show the signs of alarm on their faces and with their actions.

The next conclusion Mathias drew had been the possibility that the man could be feeling unwell, due to the trauma he had recently experienced. That was until he remembered that Berwald had informed him that the man made a substantial recovery from the night before. It was apparent from the tone of his skin, which was now a relatively normal shade, compared to the paleness it held earlier. Given the man wasn't in full health, he should be recovered enough to cooperate, if he had the energy to sit himself upright.

After running out of ideas, Mathias was once again, at a dead end. He had never been one to hesitate when making himself known or meeting an unfamiliar face. Mathias could always instantaneously create imaginative ways to catch people's attention and break the ice at an awkward meeting. However, with this perplexing man, he was utterly at a loss on where to even begin.

Although may have been the wrong approach, Mathias decided to take his chances. Thus, he followed through with the same procedure he used with other tricky individuals and extended his arm for a handshake. "I'm Mathias, by the way," he introduced. "The other guy who lives here."

With the introduction, there was a hinge progress as the man turned his head slightly to face the speaker. Otherwise, every aspect of his body sustained its immobility. To Mathias' delight, his plan hadn't completely backfired and he least he got somewhere to start.

Mathias' brief glimpse of victory was overthrown with impotence once again, as his greeting was rejected, The man continued to watch, without any intention of lifting an arm to return the handshake, or any other movements to signal a friendly acknowledgement. Contrary to the indifferent cues the man gave him, Mathias decided to sustain the chat. "Don't worry. I'm much more approachable than the first guy you probably met." he pulled a smile so his features would complement his claim. "The tall, grumpy guy was my cousin, Berwald. This is our home, so I suppose I should be giving you a proper welcoming."

'_Damn, this guy's just being hostlie.'_ His attempt proved futile once more, as the salutation was ignored. In spite of his endeavors persistently being useless, Mathias did find one benefit - he was able to get a better examination of the man's visage. By now, he realized that the other was unlikely to reveal anything, so Mathias would have to gather the information himself. Although it would come out as nothing more than assumptions, it would most likely be the best he had to work with for now. With that, he figured he could undertake an analysis of the other's attributes and draw some conclusions on how to better handle his approach.

The first thing Mathias noticed was the man's had pale, blond hair. It hung loosely and uncombed but that was expected as he had been in bed, recovering for the past day, However, this hair obscured the one side of his face, blocking out a good portion of his left eye and cheek. Mathias deducted that the man could possibly be somewhat shy. He made a note to keep their conversation as mild and and free from meddling as possible. From the side of his face that was uncovered, Mathias could see the man's eyes. As he had expected, they were sharp and held an impression of being inhospitable. For some curious reason, they reminded Mathias of sapphires. Perhaps it was the deep, ultramarine shade, or the way they seemed to glisten with clarity. Either way, it was rather contradictory to the man's apathetic personality. Mathias had the hinge that there was much more to his companion than his impassive appearance.

"Anyway," Mathias ventured again. "If you have been wondering, 'Where am I and how did I get here,' I can tell you that you haven't traveled far. We are just outside the town and you were collapsed just off the path," Mathias paused for a moment to clear his throat, before continuing. "Fortunately for you, I was on my way home from work yesterday, when I happened to bump into you there. You looked all pale and sickly, so I brought you to my home, where Berwald and I have been taking care of you since last night."

This time, the man gave a few rapid blinks, as if he were trying to digest the information and match the story with his own recollection of events. However, his motions continued to remain limited and kept his facade of silence.

Mathias released his breath. After another minute, the frustration from the stillness had caught up to him. "Come on," he pleaded, trying to keep the tone of his voice calm. The entire situation felt exasperating. This man was a true test to the limits of his patience and Mathias was on the last thread of his nerves. "Can't you say something? I feel like I'm talking to the wall over here."

As soon as those words were uttered, Mathias regretted his improper attitude. He gave himself a mental scolding, for another possibility he had not taken in consideration.. "You are _able _to speak right? If not then I am terribly sorry for my rudeness."

There was a moment of hesitation that crossed the man's face. His features scrunched up slightly, as he wrinkled his nose and narrowed his eyes into something that resembled a glare. If Mathias knew better, he would say the man was irate. However, it was the following gesture that caught him off guard.

"Yes, I do know how to speak." Mathias heard a faint utter as the man mumbled. He raised an eyebrow in response. It was nearly opposite of the way Mathias had expected it to sound. He imagined it being more monotonous and bland, due to the man's expressionless nature. Instead, his articulation was mellow and held a pleasant, melodic tone. In addition, his accent was different from Mathias' own, more warped yet not unpleasantly so. '_He's not from around here_,' with that he concluded.

"That's a relief." Mathias gave a nervous chuckle. "I was afraid I would have to excessively beg for forgiveness."

The subsequent moments were silent. Despite the sudden turn of events, the atmosphere in the room only became more awkward. Mathias proceeded to peer at the man for further evaluation and the action was returned. The obvious gawking progressed for a couple minutes, until Mathias decided to break the trend by asking some questions. "Hey, can you tell me your name? I rather not keep addressing with the word _'you' _all the time."

The discourse from earlier appeared to be a lone occurrence, as the man gave no response and prolonged his fixated stare. Mathias fought the urge to smack himself across the forehead. Right as he assumed there would be any success in his endeavor, the breakthrough was seemingly lost. Once more, the air became cumbersome, as Mathias was baffled by the unreadable guise of the man, "Whatever happened to you back there, it must have been an awful experience," he attempted again, with more empathy. "Anyway, I hope you're making a good recovery. It's getting late tonight, but tomorrow morning, Berwald and I can help you get everything sorted out."

"No." came the unexpected protest that supplanted the typical deadpan reception from the man. This time his response was hasty, even though his facial features remained relatively frozen. "That won't be necessary. Nothing happened."

"Well, alright." Tilting his head, Mathias was confounded by the statement. "Look, it might be a delicate topic to talk about and I understand that. But do give it some time and thought." '_Unless you just like lying by roadsides as perhaps a strange hobby_.'

"As I already said," the man repeated, his voice tinged with a hint of irritation. "That will be irrelevant."

"Ah, you're a tough one to crack, aren't you?" he threw in a lighthearted nod, while forcing a grin on his face. Perhaps it would coax the man to open up a bit more. "Let's start with this. Where are you from exactly? Maybe we can aid your return."

"I'm sorry," The man's hands trembled lightly, before they curled into tight fists. "But I don't believe that is any of your business."

Mathias, with that statement, found his annoyance returning. '_It is common courtesy to address one's liberators with at least a little respect_,' He thought bitterly. The man's unreasonable irascibility and unfriendly attitude made it difficult for him to be polite. He had maintained his his courtesy thus far, but that had dissipated the very second he heard the hostile words. "Fine," he let out a sigh, as his smile was replaced with a frown. "I don't know what your problem is, but you have been extremely rude. I have only been trying to help you out and would appreciate some cooperation on your behalf."

The rebuttal had done its work, as it was the other man's turn to be taken back. With the most intensive display of emotions Mathias had yet to witness, the man's eyes widened in astonishment. He remained muted for another brief period, as if he was jarred and unaware of the belligerent nature of his own attitude. "I apologize." he atoned. "I didn't mean to be so insulting. Things have been difficult and I'm not entirely ready to discuss them."

"Ah, I see now." Mathias commented, his inflection returning to a more sympathetic pitch. With the disclosure, he figured he could shrug off the man's callous temperament from earlier. "Well you should have just said so. I wouldn't mind at all."

"If you don't mind, I would prefer to continue this conversation tomorrow." the man admitted, affirming his drained state. It claim was semblent with the exhaustion that fluctuated as he spoke.

"That can do. And my apologies for all the prodding." Mathias affirmed, upon the realization at the immense amount he had been chattering. He should have figured how exhausting the ordeal had been for the man and kept his interactions minimal. "Well, I should leave you to rest then. If you need anything, I am only a holler away."

"Yes, that is what I need, and thank you," the man bowed his head in acknowledgement.

Mathias waved a hand in the air, signaling his departure. Just as he turned to leave, there was a faint mutter.

"Lukas," the man conveyed. It had been so quiet, the words were practically a whisper. "That is my name."

"Well then, pleasure to meet you Lukas." he flashed a wink, which coincided with the grin that had returned to his face. Mathias was relieved that somehow, against the strange odds, he was able to end things on a cordial note. Least towards the end, he was able to induce some sentient responses out of the man. The upcoming few days were bound to be interesting.

* * *

**Hello thank you for reading and my apologies that this update was not nearly as fast and prompt as the others. Yeah excuses, excuses...**

**It's mostly a combination of me being super busy with school, being over paranoid that the story is lousy because it's not too popular (which results in me spending time editing the already posted chapters, rather than making new content), and me just simply lacking in motivation to do anything some days.**

**Anyway, the good news is I do have chapter 4 and 5 totally written and they will be posted when they are edited (yes...I'm super paranoid that this story sucks). The bad news is it's midterms for me and I'm probably not going to be putting much work here for the next 2 weeks or so (sorry, college comes first).**

**Anyway, if you can spare a minute of your time, please do leave some feedback. I would love to hear how my writing pans out. Once again, thanks for the Subs/Favs and kind comments from last time.**

**See you soon (hopefully)**

**- Miz**


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